The Trouble With Love Is
by wirewrappedlily
Summary: Derek doesn't want to have a mate, that's for actually put-together people who don't ruin everything they touch. As a friend of mine would say, WHY CAN'T DEREK HAVE NICE THINGS! M for sexitimes. Sterek


It is _not_ possible. No. Derek used to be the kid that would gag over his parents kissing, it should've been Laura or someone-anyone-else that got a mate. Not him. Especially not _this_ mate.

The kid looks him in the eye and says he's not afraid of him. He keeps looking him in the eye and then admits maybe his is, okay, a little. But the kid's heartrate is level and steady and he doesn't smell like _fear_; he smells like _mate_.

This isn't to be bourn. Derek can't have a mate. Not only is he not the right kind of person for that kind of bond, he's not even the alpha-until he is, and then, well, fuck, because Stiles is there, watching him, and he has the urge to go and wrap around Stiles and growl at anyone who gets too close. He's supposed to take his mate. He wants to take his mate. Only, the thing is, there's a list of things that impede him from having something like a good day, a fulfilling life, or, hell, even a mate.

Kate Argent's at the top of the list, then being completely unprepared for any of this, being a bad alpha, being a bad family member-let's put it this way: The list could probably encase the entire length of the planet at least once if he were to write it all out, and, oh yeah, Stiles was straight, not interested, and downright hostile to him-okay, that one was his fault, totally, and his failings there were _so_ going on the list.

Stiles has every right to hate him. Hell, Stiles can't hate him as much as he hates himself.

Unfortunately, no one else seems to understand this but Derek and Stiles themselves. And possibly Scott, but that's more because he just doesn't like Derek-which Derek also finds to be a valid life choice.

First, there's Peter and the Argents and poison and Stiles being in danger for-oh, yeah-helping him. It's like the world at large is out to get Derek to snap. If he claimed Stiles as his, then maybe he'd have an easier time protecting him.

Ha, ha: fuck you, world. He won't be staking any claim. Stiles is in love with some girl named Lydia Martin (good luck, kid, redheads are nuts) and he is so not interested in Derek that it actually kind of hurts a little bit, to feel such a pull and not have it reciprocated.

Then, there's the kamina and that whole mess. Derek kind of wonders when Stiles is going to realize that all of his threats are grandstanding because, seriously, Derek's first instinct is to put himself between danger and his mate, and it's so strong that he's put himself between Peter and Stiles, and the kamina and Stiles, and Isaac and Stiles. Really, there's a whole lot of danger and Stiles. Being Stiles. Not running the fuck away, like he should. Being an idiot.

...Okay, fine, keeping his ass alive, but still, Stiles should know better than to be saving someone who threatens his life on a regular basis.

He knows Stiles is smart, but he can't helping thinking that, just a little, the kid is an idiot, because between Scott and Derek, there's enough danger to Stiles's life that Stiles himself is endangering himself protecting-He does know the kid is smart...nope, not really...yeah, not so much, 'cause he's constantly saving Derek's life and being an idiot.

Then Derek meets Lydia, and...alright, so maybe he is a little bit smart, because if there's anyone good enough for Stiles Stilinski, it's Lydia Martin-though he still loses some points for _redhead_, because of the _bugfuck_ _crazy_.

But Lydia shakes his hand firmly and shoots a look at Stiles. Well, more of a Look. Stiles shrugs, and Erica snorts, and there's something Derek has to be missing, he can feel it.

Stiles moves them along too fast for there to not be something Derek is missing.

As if the gods are trying to prove Derek right, however, the little idiot goes and says the word "Wendigo" outside, in late fall-turning-winter, and Derek can only (futilely, so very futilely) pray that they are too far south for the wendigo to be summoned by the sound of its name-_**AS IT'S MEANT TO**_.

Yeah, Derek may not be able to live in hope, but he would've also ended up dying in it if he had. Somehow, Derek's entire pack and Scott can't manage to keep Stiles in his room as the wendigo howls on the wind for him, so Derek's left to tackle him to the ground to get him to stop going for the wendigo and is somehow relegated to babysitting duty while his pack and Scott gang up against the wendigo.

Derek kind of hates Canadian monsters now. Only not, because he's gotta admit, if only to himself, that he agrees entirely when Stiles snaps out of the trance of the wendigo's howl, looks at the thing and goes, as every teenage boy would, "That is so cool...and _so gross_!"

Inwardly, Derek's laughing, because it's so Stiles, and so blatantly true. Outwardly, however, his glare could melt diamonds (and not because he's hot, no, but because he's honed his ability to glare so well. Although he is probably hot enough to melt diamonds) and Stiles just grins up at him stupidly.

"Oh, please, you know a man-eating moose with massive claws and a half-decomposed human body in mid-starvation gets you in your inner boydom."

"Inner boydom?" Derek's voice can glare-hey, that's...actually kinda sad.

Stiles's grin falters, and there's something almost haunted in his eyes before his tongue starts up, and Derek wants to see it again because he needs to know what it is and what causes it and make sure that it never happens again- "You're right, you came out fully grown and sour." He rolls his eyes as he says the words, letting Boyd take his hand to help him up from where he was laying against Derek's legs-and, hey, no: that is not what Derek wants here...but he's gotta grumble and make noise about this, because if the universe figures out he cares-figures out that he _wants_-then it'll take Stiles from him faster than he could even comprehend.

Stiles ducks his head, nodding, admitting in a hollow voice that tears-shreds-Derek apart inside that, yeah, this was all his fault. And, you know what, maybe he's not cut out to be running with wolves after all-and, wait just a goddamn fucking minute, because Derek didn't want that at all, would never want that. But Stiles thinks he does. And, hey, he's the idiot, because Stiles...yeah, Derek's the idiot. Stiles turns his back and walks away, and Derek feels like he's been ripped from his family all over again. He feels angry and lost and like he even had a chance to start with.

Derek's pack follows Stiles away from their Alpha. He doesn't blame them.

Erica calls him an idiot. Boyd doesn't bother to come. Isaac looks like a kicked puppy. Allison comes to see him with cookies that she actually made with Stiles that afternoon, and she hands him a book, talking about how Scott and Stiles used to have this creative writing class as an easy mark...and how it'd given Stiles this habit of carrying a book to jot down story ideas in and notes, which is something Derek had no idea about. He thinks about how much Stiles knows, and there's a good chance he could write down a week of his life and it would be a best-seller.

Derek doesn't read it at first. It's an older book, dated from a year before they'd met to about the week after. When Derek does open the book, he's hit with so many ideas and stories and thoughts, spread page after page, some half-written and beautiful if Stiles could just focus for long enough to get them all out from under his skin. Lydia's the heroine, though the heroine's black-haired and pixie-ish. Derek can almost see her, and the more he reads, the more enthralled he is. It hits Derek when he gets to a painfully frank depiction of her death that she's not Lydia, really. Yes, she's smart and dangerous, but...no, this is Stiles, put into another form. Painfully loving and destined for forever feeling like she's falling short of what her destiny is. It's painful, and it's...it's like a poison. Derek can't put it down after he realizes he's reading Stiles characterize himself so clearly. He reads as Stiles kills himself in a hundred different ways through her. Some of them too...too visceral. Like Stiles tried and failed himself, like he knows just what he's talking about when he talks about being empty.

The writing is slightly neater near the end, marking the passage of time between when he began and when he picked it back up. This is different, though; this is a love note. It's not marked between characters, it's not addressed and it's not signed though it's almost as jarring as the emptiness when Derek reads about how...how good, how _full_ this person made Stiles feel. Like he was flying already, still standing on the precipice. A character map is next, and Derek feels it like a kick to the gut as he reads "love interest" of Stiles's girl. The character's...he starts off knowing he's built just for her, they both know it, and she fights it a little, because she hates being trapped more than anything else, but he's...there. Patient, ready. He'll even hide who he is if that's what she wants. He'll masquerade as a pain in the ass rather than the man that would fit with her like a puzzle piece. Derek feels like Stiles is spelling it out that this is what he's done, and suddenly Derek's kinship with the girl that isn't actually him feels weird.

But it's more than that. Stiles writes his character like a noir hero, a fallen angel that wants so bad it hurts, but turns away from it because he knows she wouldn't want to love him.

And then it just...ends. The last page holds a quote from some song, which Derek tries to deny himself listening to for all of five minutes before he has to play it, just to know.

_"I'm still alive, but I'm barely breathing, just praying to a god that I don't believe in."_ It's so fitting, and so Stiles, and the song doesn't hit him. It doesn't strike like lightning that it's Stiles, because it isn't, really. It's just...the one-sidedness of love.

Lydia knocks on his door while Derek stares at the book, and she looks from it to him and smiles, "You know, I think you'd make a devastating leading man, Derek. Go get your damsel. Don't ask to read the most recent book."

"What? Why?"

"Because he dropped the pretense of having a heroine, and you'll cry-I did." Lydia told him, voice soft as she watched him run for Stiles like he was about to leave entirely, like there was a deadline.

Really, Derek thinks there is, in a way. He doesn't want to wait for a millisecond longer, and he wants to make Stiles explain how heartbreaking it is, and then he wants to make sure Stiles never feels that heartbroken ever again.

Sheriff Stilinski pulls him over for speeding-of course he does-and when he snorts at the sight of the book, rolling his eyes and waving him on, the conspiracy of this whole thing hits Derek. Everyone _knew_, whether just about Stiles wanting him, or about him wanting Stiles, Derek doesn't want to think about, but he's thankful for it.

It starts to simply pour rain-of course it does, because this is something Stiles would totally write, so he has to live it, too-and Derek parks his car across the street and gets mostly-soaked as he runs across the road, because you get more wet if you run through the rain than if you walk, it's been proven and it still doesn't make sense. Derek knocks, and Stiles opens the door, and then Derek kind of just...yeah, he doesn't know what happens next, he probably should've said something, apologized, but that's...well, Stiles is sucking on his tongue, and, yeah, Derek really doesn't want to stop long enough to breathe, let alone summon coherent thought which he can then mangle by trying to use words he should really just leave to Stiles to deal with, because Stiles is good at words. So good.

Stiles's fists are in his white shirt, and he's yanking Derek into the house, tripping backwards up the stairs while Derek's kissing him and not keeping up at all with his brain, just letting a buzz of peaceful, static white wash over him while he pulls Stiles against him, around him, and carries confidently up the stairs with Stiles's lower lip still being worried by suction and teeth and tongue in his mouth. Stiles feels almost like he's talking into Derek's mouth, but that's kind of secondary as they get to Stiles's bedroom and-oh, joy, dear gods the joy-Stiles's bed.

Tripping their way into it, Derek finally breaks off, "Love you."

Stiles hums, and he already knew that, but he manages "Love you, too." anyway. When clothes start to be shed, Derek sits back for a moment, just looking at him. There's flush all over his cheeks, ears, and chest; his lips are bright and swollen, bruising from kisses. Derek wants to make another mark on his pale skin, one that clearly says mine, and he looks up for permission before he realizes how vulnerably Stiles is looking at him, how this may be the one time Stiles has ever let everything show on his face. He looks like he's hungry, and so scared of getting hurt. Derek leans down, kissing slow and soft this time, no less needy but far less frantic. He's going to take his time with this, and he's going to enjoy every second he's allowed, because his list wraps around the world but Stiles is still looking at him like that anyway; Stiles still told him he loves him.

Derek's almost restraining, Stiles not catching on about the change of pace. Stiles almost hits him with the lube and condom and they don't even have their pants off yet. Chuckling, Derek holds him close and stops him from going for their jeans and makes him kiss slower, smiling into it as Stiles does kind of catch on, protesting in grumbles and muffled words that he can't get out around the way Derek's kissing him. Derek kind of likes that. Likes tasting Stiles's mood because he's so close the smell of frustration and arousal is thick enough to taste; likes Stiles huffing and giving in; likes the noise he's constantly making, and then when he doesn't make any noise at all when Derek kisses him just right while he undoes Stiles's jeans.

Stiles actually stops breathing for a moment when Derek touches him, and Derek knows-because he remembers-that Stiles is trying to hold on. Derek grins, leans down, and sucks at Stiles's head through the fabric of his boxers.

"That...was totally unfair." Stiles pants, and Derek chuckles again as he licks up the mess they made on Stiles's skin. "This is also unfair…" He's starting to stir again-teenage refractory period, what a beautiful thing-and Derek smiles as he kisses and nips his way up from Stiles's hips, taking his time, mapping him out ."Please take off your pants?"

Derek sucks on a nipple while he looks innocently up at Stiles, and he can feel Stiles get hard against his stomach. He obeys once Stiles makes the right sound, desperate and needy like he hadn't just come, sitting back and almost laughing as Stiles attacks his fly like his life depends on it. Derek reaches down after the second fumbling attempt, taking Stiles's hands and pulling them up, pulling him up, angling their mouths together while he takes care of his own damn jeans. Stiles gasps as he jerks his way out of the kiss, and Derek finds himself being pushed back.

It's…more erotic than Derek would've given it credit for. Stiles looks at him like he's drinking it in, worshipping and hot and he licks and bites his lip, eyes going unfocused for a moment as he skims down Derek's body, now spread over his bedding, waiting. Stiles just had a hand on his chest to push him back, but Stiles's hands are shaking now, and Derek rolls his eyes, taking one into his rather larger ones, almost swallowing it his are so much bigger, and pulling it against his skin, eyes steady in Stiles's, ready for him to run if he needs to.

Stiles licks his lips again before he touches Derek's ribs, his thumb tracing up to brush Derek's nipple almost accidentally. He looks uncertain, but only about what he's doing. Derek takes up his other hand, kissing his wrist and scenting just at the pulse, right where it'll be strongest, the smell of beeswax and cut grass and boy, perfectly Stiles.

Stiles gets braver, lowering himself down beside Derek and watching his hands trail over skin, the shake only returning when he strayed low, his heart picking up slightly at the sight of Derek's cock. Derek rests his fingers under Stiles's chin, brushing his thumb over Stiles's lips and bringing his eyes up, "Tell me what you want, and I'll do it for you, Stiles, anything. Just tell me what you want."

Stiles blinks at him, and Derek never noticed just how thick that fringe of eyelashes was before, but he wants to kiss them to sleep when all is said and done. "I want you…" Stiles sounds like he's being choked, but his heart is mostly steady as he hands Derek the condom and lube again, looking at him with only a little shiftiness.

"Have you done this before?" Derek doesn't mean sex; he knows for sure that Stiles hasn't done that. He hopes Stiles gets it, because he can't articulate that he means if Stiles has opened himself up before, because the mental image alone makes his dick throb. Stiles nods, looking sheepish, and his blush darkens. Derek licks his cheek just to taste that blush, bringing Stiles down against the bed, uncapping the lube slowly, slicking his fingers where Stiles can see what he's doing, moving slowly and asking over and over again with his eyes if Stiles is sure. Stiles parts his thighs a little wider, and a hot dart of arousal burns Derek up.

Derek's slow and thorough about this; taking his time and watching Stiles raptly, studying the evidence that he was there, just as much as he's studying what touches make Stiles gasp. There's beard burn on his chest and chin, and Derek leans down to kiss those red marks, soft and healing. Stiles moans, fingers threading through his hair to bring him up for a kiss, slow and languid.

Stiles keeps quiet, though; doesn't push. He lets Derek control their speed, trust shining in his gorgeous, golden-amber eyes. Derek traces his tongue over lithe muscle, presses reverent kisses into Stiles's hips. When Derek works his fingers free, Stiles can't help the whine he lets out, welcoming Derek's mouth against his to muffle his noises into as Derek arranges them.

Stiles freezes as Derek slides home, his fingers curling against Derek's shoulders, blunt nails scraping lightly before he gasps out a breath, then another, relaxing around him, moving down slightly and nodding, bringing Derek in for another kiss, pushing down further when Derek doesn't move immediately.

Derek starts moving, and it's a mess of heat. It's slow, deliberate and more a statement than Derek could put words to. He still has his list; that'll never change. But if Stiles wants to ignore it, Derek will do everything he can to make his mate happy. Including giving him romance-novel-worthy, starry-eyed, sex for his first time.

Stiles comes before he does, but Derek figured he would. When he comes, he whispers Stiles's name, and Stiles whimpers at the sound of his voice, arching deliciously. He lies beside Stiles in silence for a long moment once they've cleaned up enough, and he can almost hear Stiles's mind buzzing. "You love me?" Derek broke the silence the millisecond before Stiles was about to, he could tell by the flash of shock.

"Yes." Stiles answers like it'll cost him something. Derek thinks it might've done that already once, but this time he wants to give Stiles everything instead.

"I love you, too." Derek wondered how deeply into shock he was about to send Stiles, sliding over and pulling him close. "And, FYI, you're the heart of this pack, Stiles."

"And sometimes the brain." Stiles interjects, a grin in his voice.

"I don't know. It's pretty stupid of you to fall in love with me."

Stiles blows a raspberry at that, and Derek chuckles, "No, what's stupid is that you had to show...oh, dear gods…"

"What?" Stiles starts quivering against him, and Derek almost panics, but it's laughter, and Stiles is trying not to let it out. Stiles twists and covers Derek's body, groping for something beside the bed, and Derek huffs a sigh as he (im)patiently waits for Stiles to re-emerge...holding a book. A book a lot like the one in Derek's car, only with a wolf on the cover instead of a map of the world.

"I wrote this." Stiles mutters. "I wrote...well, I write sometimes, and it's just...yeah, but I wrote this-"

"I know you write, Stiles. I have...I have one of the books, that's why I...how I figured it out, why I came instead of staying away." Stiles looks at him, and Derek can almost see the joke about coming on his lips.

"Well, I wrote...not quite this. But something close." Derek takes the book where Stiles is holding it open, and he reads it aloud, waiting until he's done the passage about a sun storm, a white sweater, and his girl falling-finally-into her lover's arms to ask about the small gasp Stiles probably didn't even realize he made, "You...no one I've ever given something of mine to read to has ever read it in the way it sounds in my head."

Derek closes the book, putting it aside and drawing Stiles close, tucking him under his arm and tracing over his back, "So how did I get that book?"

"Scott stole it from me, then gave it to Allison, who would not give it back after she started reading it." Stiles snorts, sounding petulant.

"You should finish the story, Stiles." He murmurs.

Later on, down the road, Derek will kiss Stiles's eyelashes closed and start bullying him into settling down more. They'll discover that they have a soothing effect on each other...sometimes. Sometimes they're still like fire and ice, but only when what they're fighting over actually matters (i.e.: Stiles running the fuck away when he's told to; Derek learning not to be a lone wolf) and Stiles forces Derek to write out his list when it gets really bad. And then he burns the whole thing, glaring daggers at Derek who will actually look a little sheepish. Lydia Martin and Allison Argent aren't going to be responsible for Stiles's international best-selling novel 'Howl', about a girl swept up in a world where everything that was supposed to be a nightmare is real. But they will take credit for getting it published anyway. Derek will take credit for getting Stiles to write it completely. Both girls will kiss him for it, because both were hooked on what snippets there had been. Stiles will accept a kiss from Lydia (Derek just barely stops himself from growling, because they've talked about fairness here, and it's only fair, they are friends and Stiles is his), but only a hug from Allison because she's too much a sister to him. She will kiss his cheek anyway, and he'll make a show of it being gross, but he'll be grinning and blushing with pride, because he did that, it was his brain child. And there will be more Derek in the leading man than Derek will ever realize, but it'll give Stiles a way into Derek's headspace sometimes, in almost dangerous ways when Derek's at his darkest.

_"Sweet sun, send me the moon; empty the skies out, bringing me one step closer to you." _


End file.
